


Teamwork

by schrodanger



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:13:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5007823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schrodanger/pseuds/schrodanger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from Tumblr - Teamwork, feat. Solas and Declan</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teamwork

**Author's Note:**

> A bit that should have been in Chapter 5, but never made the cut. I may include it in a flashback in later chapters.

“I can’t…I can’t do this.” Declan clung to Solas’s upper arm and stared at his trembling legs. It was the first time he’d been on his feet since he’d woken up.

It wasn’t going well. After a single minute of standing, his stomach was already churning dangerously and his underclothes were drenched with sweat.

“Only for a few minutes,” Solas reassured. “You risk damage to your muscles and circulatory system if you do not exercise your-”

“Everything’s already f-fucking broken…” He let out a tight breath through clenched teeth. “Fuck it. Let’s get it over with.”

One step.

The minute his right foot left the ground, white spots threatened to consume his vision.

The minute a pained groan escaped his throat, a healing spell spread over his skin. His exhausted body greedily accepted the warm, soothing burst of magic.

“Do not pressure your right leg,” said Solas. “Another step. Rely on your left side.”

Declan swallowed and blinked away the sweat dripping into his face.

By the end of his tenth stride, Declan was leaning against Solas, head swimming and chest heaving.

“Good. You did very well. In a few days, we might work on you walking by yourself, if your health permits.”

Declan shook his head. “Let’s just….let’s just get it out of th-the way.”

“What?” Solas replied incredulously. “No, you need rest. You cannot push yourself to-”

“If not now, then _when_?” Declan interrupted. He wasn’t ready. He knew he wasn’t. He didn’t care. The sooner, the better. He was so tired. Tired of being sick and bedridden, tired of using this strange apostate he knew nothing about as a crutch, tired of being helpless.

“…This is not a competition, lethallin.”

He weakly shoved Solas off. “Stand over by the cot,” he wheezed. The absence of Solas’s support caused him to reel.

“I am not going to allow you to do this to yourself.” Solas caught him before he could collapse on the ground.

Declan glared up at him. Every breath was a struggle. “Wh-what, you feel s-so fucking sorry for me that….that you won’t l-let me walk on my own? I’m not….a child!”

Solas’s eyebrows furrowed. “It is not a matter of pity!” he retorted. “If you push yourself, you will make yourself ill. Who would that benefit?”

Declan lowered his gaze, too exhausted to argue anymore. He didn’t speak or make any move to push Solas away again. Solas let out a short sigh and wrapped an arm around Declan’s waist, hauling him upright. His other hand went to Declan’s chest. His fingers were warm against the sweat-chilled fabric of Declan’s tunic. 

After easing Declan onto the bedroll, he pressed a full water-skin of juice into Declan’s shaking hands. He drank slowly, savoring every drop of the liquid. He didn’t look at Solas when he handed the water-skin back.

“That you are doing this well after such an incident is worthy of pride.” Solas’s voice was considerably gentler than it had been during their arguing. Regardless, Declan refused a dry shirt when Solas offered it to him. Instead, he peeled off the shirt and dumped it on the ground before wrapping himself up in his blankets.

“You want me to be proud of being half-dead and unable to piss without someone helping me stand?”

A hand touched his shoulder. 

“I want you to be proud of your will to endure. I want you to be proud of refusing to accept the hand that circumstance has dealt you. Most would have simply given up by now. You have not.”

Declan pressed his lips together and stared at the fur bedding. “Poetic horseshit,” he mumbled after a moment. In spite of his harsh words, there was no venom in his tone. “Go….write a book or something. Stop lecturing me. I’m tired.”

He expected an agitated rebuttal, but received only a soft chuckle.

“And your stubbornness is perhaps worthy of pride as well.”

“Sarcastic jackass.”

Solas’s hand remained on Declan’s shoulder until he drifted into a restless sleep. 


End file.
